“Thenwhy? What could have made you leave me, a scared girl alone, waiting up for hours for her husband to come to her bed for the first time? Not to mention subjecting me to the jeers and whispers I was forced to endure after your abandonment. I was the duchess who couldn’t keep her duke…” This was the first time her voice wavered; her eyes left his face to find a point beyond his left shoulder. He watched intently as Alaina’s slender throat worked while she fought to maintain her composure. It didn’t take her long, and he found he admired her bravery as she met his gaze again. This was no girl staring down her estranged husband and stomping a petulant foot, but a woman of her own mind. She was a lioness with teeth and claws and a spirit honed by years of battle.
Battles, much to his everlasting regret, he’d left her to weather alone.
“For over ayear, not a week went by when my name wasn’t bandied about by the tabloids,” Alaina forged on, though the admission was mortifyingly painful. Her mind spun with the millions of things she’d wanted to say to him over the years, each warring for supremacy and slowing her tongue. She had to begin somewhere, so why not with the ways in which she’d suffered in his absence? “I was unable to attend any events for the shame of it and, when I finally did, the whispers were unbearable.”
Everyone had wondered what was wrong with her or claimed she was a fool for believing a duke that young and well-off would truly be ready to settle down, but Alaina kept that last part to herself. She wasn’t convinced the man standing before her wouldn’t take perverse pleasure in the fact that many speculatedshewas to blame for his flight from the country. The truth was, she didn’t know him; he’d been her husband only in name for nearly a decade, but he was a relative stranger to her. She eyed the changes in his features once again and realized this was truer now than even when they’d first wed. Time changed people.
And the same could be said about her, she supposed. Her husband knew little to nothing about who she was now—about her life and her passions. About how she’d been forced to retreat into herself until she’d uncovered a stronger part of her soul that could withstand the gossip long enough to find true companions amongst the hidden thorns in the garden of theton. That had been one of the greatest catalysts to the creation of her Reading Society.
Over time, Alaina realized that there were other women in her world equally in need of a place where they wouldn’t be judged—where no one cared if you were married and to whom. They were like-minded friends who had helped her cultivate a haven in which they might expand their horizons and experience honest companionship; how they could come together to pool their resources and make a difference for whatever cause they felt most necessary—be it charities, schools, feminine rights, or foundlings. As she eyed the man standing before her, she decided that he’d likely never even considered such struggles existed for anyone. If he had, then he wouldn’t have left her to fend for herself for so long.
It was entirely possible he’d never thought of anyone beyond himself and any ounce of empathy or kindness she’d witnessed during their courtship was naught more than a carefully calculated facade. It stung to think that he’d plied her with lies and pretty words, and, not for the first time, she berated her younger self for being so foolish.
“Then why?” she demanded evenly. “Pray, what is the real reason you ran away? Surely you should be able to tell me this now though you never deigned to send a single line in a letter explaining yourself?”
Several tense heartbeats passed before her husband finally responded. “Just know that I had to go…and that I hope you will eventually find it within you to forgive me for any pain it may have caused you.”
Alaina’s mouth gaped in disbelief. Even after all these years, the man couldn’t justify his actions. The least he could do was put some effort into his explanation, but it appeared she wasn’t worth even that much to him. She scoffed and shook her head disbelievingly, propping her fists on her hips. It wasn’t what her hands itched to do, but it was better than swinging from the gallows for mariticide.
She heaved as deep a bracing breath as her stays would allow. “If that is all, please excuse me, Your Grace. I now have a supper to plan in honor of yourglorioushomecoming.” She bobbed a sarcastic curtsy and brushed past Sterling, not allowing him to naysay her or further fill her ears with hollow platitudes and embarrassingly meaningless apologies.
She needed space.
She needed tobreathe,as the world she’d so carefully curated began to crack and crumble around her.
Sterling turned towatch his wife’s ramrod-straight spine as she trudged down the hallway with impressive speed and determination. He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling every one of the miles he’d traveled these past several weeks.
Well, that had gone nearly as poorly as possible. The only thing worse might have been physical violence against him.
Sterling swore he wasn’t a volatile man—despite the evidence of this first encounter with his wife in nearly a decade. He’d never been a lad who threw punches at school. He’d been known for a temperate disposition at university. However, something about the stress and nervous excitement about finally returning home to England—and to Alaina—had created a roiling tempest of frustration and anxiety the likes of which he’d never experienced. It had made him into a man he didn’t like and he already regretted it.
He didn’t know what he’d been anticipating upon his return. He wasn’t foolish enough to have hoped Alaina would throw her arms around his neck and wrap her grateful body around his. He wasn’t a returning hero—to Alaina, he was the villain in her story…and he couldn’t blame her for her perspective.
“Your Grace?”
Sterling turned to find his aging butler standing at attention a respectable distance away. Though the man’s countenance remained stoic, he didn’t doubt that the servant (and likely many others) had overheard their row. Maxwell had known Sterling his entire life, working his way up from footman to under butler and then butler of the London residence. Even if Sterling’s marriage had gone up in smoke, something was reassuring about the older man’s familiar face there to help him find his footing after he’d been set on his ear.
“Will your luggage be arriving later this evening?”
“Yes, Maxwell. My valet will be arriving from the docks in short order. Please see that Allan is shown around and introduced to the staff.” He’d written ahead and had a valet hired from a service as part of his preparations for his return to English soil. He’d briefly met the middle-aged valet upon disembarking and, unable to wait any longer, left Allan to oversee the unloading of his belongings so he might return home and to his wife more quickly. And now Sterling felt as if one of those trunks had been placed squarely on his chest.
He spared a glance down the hallway where his wife had retreated but thought better of his impulse to seek her out and set things on a better path. Tracking her down now would surely only unleash more wrath from the lioness, and he was wise enough now to know that trying to force her acceptance of his return could prove disastrous. Instead, he made his way to the grand curved staircase.
“I’ve a mind to freshen up. Have a bath drawn if you would.” Maybe he’d feel better after washing away the salt air and grime of travel. He’d spent weeks on ships, in carriages, and on horseback traversing the seemingly endless distance between Italy and Spain, weathering both the sweltering sun and bone chilling rain, stopping very little to rest, driven ceaselessly by the image of his wife at the end of his journey. Even if a bath didn’t revive him entirely, at the very least he’d be able to refresh himself for another round with Alaina.
“Very good, Your Grace,” the butler said with a bow as he quit the room.
Sterling stood in silence for several minutes, simply absorbing the fact that he washome. Seeing the English shoreline had released a deep-seated knot in his chest. Riding through the streets had unleashed a wave of nostalgia. But Morton House with its familiar rooms was the place he knew as home.
And he was determined to finally make a future with its mistress.
*
It was allAlaina could do not to slam the heavy door to her bedchamber.
That man.
That infuriating, fickle, boorish, unfairly handsomeman!
